


The Sweater

by NikaylaSarae



Series: Sweater Verse [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Extra Limbs, Implied Child Abandoment, NotQuiteHuman!AU, kid!Janus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26997517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae
Summary: Emile had said he was making a sweater for a friend. Only he neglected to tell Remy that this friend wasn’t exactly…well…human.
Series: Sweater Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017345
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	The Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted with minor edits from my Tumblr account @stillebesat.

“You didn’t have to come.”

Remy flinched at the unexpected rumble from the towering man walking next to him. After three days spent with Emile, he was sure that he would have such a reaction under control sooner rather than later...so long as the dude stopped speaking up out of the blue like this that is. 

Emile licked his lips, adjusting his glasses as he held the tissue wrapped package closer to his chest. “Really.” 

Remy took a sip from his Starbucks cup, savoring the warmth of the hot chocolate in the chill evening air, glad that the snow had stopped falling for a glacier minute. “Gurl.” He looked up over the rims of his sunglasses and smirked, again trying to not take it to heart that this guy was a good hulking foot taller than him. “I  _ soo _ did. With all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into helping you--you owe me this at least.”

It wasn’t everyday that he walked into the room reserved for teaching beginners how to be dressmakers in search of an extra spool of green thread to find this unexpectedly gentle giant awkwardly hunched over the sewing machine attempting to make…. _ something. _

He’d heard the term  _ bull in a china shop _ before, but Remy had never felt the term applicable to anyone until he saw Emile. He’d been sure one wrong twitch of his dinner plate sized hands would mean bye bye sewing machine. 

Of course, after getting the big guy to spill the beans and admit that he’d been trying to make a sweater for a ‘friend’ by threatening to kick him out of the sewing lab for being there outside hours; Remy had learned that just like the Mythbusters had proven, despite Emile’s wrestling sized figure, he was just as delicate as the bull in the episode had been. His large fingers were far more dexterous -if prone to being pricked by needles- than Remy had expected of the guy who could probably crush a watermelon with his bare hands. 

But that didn’t mean he’d leave this amateur to his own devices. No Ma’am! Not after he’d seen the pitiful first attempt of  _ something  _ that  _ could have been  _ a sweater fit for a large teddy bear or maybe a small child, Remy had delegated himself as Emile’s pseudo teacher if only to ensure no sewing machines ended up crushed into teacups. 

He needn’t have worried though. Emile had a soft touch. 

The big guy bit his lip, keeping his eyes firmly straight ahead in a way that told Remy he didn’t want to make eye contact. 

That was probably wise for him because Remy could pull a mean puppy dog look when he wanted to. He’d received more than his fair share of drinks on the house from it and he could and would use those eyes against Emile if he thought it would help his case.

Emile exhaled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I just--I don’t know if--if Stitch will like...well...strangers. He’s very shy.” 

Stitch. Like the alien from that kids movie. 

Kids movies that Emile was rather obsessed with once he opened that particular can of gummy worms though Remy was sure he was only beginning to uncover that massive iceberg of an interest. This intimidating mountain of a man had morphed into quite the giant nerdy softie when it came to him talking about his cartoons. 

Maybe that was why the sweater had been comically small. Of course, getting the proper sizing for this _gift_ from Emile had been rather...like pulling teeth. It had taken a full hour of wheedling before Emile had admitted that he was only guessing at the size he needed for this...friend. 

“Sugarbee.” Remy shook his head. “If he likes you I don’t see how little--” and it galled him that he had to call himself little because he was a good five foot eleven inches thank you very much. “Old me would frighten him away.” 

Emile shrugged a shoulder, fingers brushing the string on the package. “He’s just...I don’t want to scare him. I barely have any trust with him as it is and if I bring someone new--” 

Remy rolled his eyes, flexing his fingers around his cooling cup. It was like the guy was talking about a feral dog and not a person. “Trust me, babes. I ain’t gonna scare him.”

The sweater on the other hand?

That was less certain.

Because it had to be the strangest one ever created. 

Like Remy had seen his fair share of Ugly Sweaters over the years.

But this one would probably take the cake if only for the fact that Emile had insisted that said sweater have  _ six  _ arms.

After having to figure out the logistics of  _ that  _ particular snag, and after doing most of the sewing of those extra arms himself, there was no way Remy wasn’t seeing the reaction of this ‘Stitch’ kid to this particular present.

Maybe the dude just liked pretending to be the alien and Emile was humoring him. 

Regardless, Remy wanted to make sure that said monstrosity actually  _ fit _ . It was a good eighty-two percent of his work after all and he prided himself on his garments fitting perfectly. 

Emile exhaled, still avoiding eye contact. “Just...stay behind me okay?” 

Remy gulped down the last of his hot chocolate, tossing the cup into a nearby trash can as he followed Emile around the corner into a tree filled snow covered park. “Three steps back. Got it, Princess.” 

Though seriously, if  _ Stitch  _ wasn’t afraid of Emile, towering giant that he was, he highly doubted his presence would be an issue.

Remy shoved his hands into his pockets, letting the big guy move ahead to cut a swath through the untouched snow like a snowplow on a highway towards a huge pine tree in an out of the way corner that had branches all the way down to the ground, hiding the trunk completely from view. It was an odd spot to meet a ‘friend.’ Especially since said friend had apparently not arrived yet. 

Remy exhaled, hunching his shoulders. “Looks like we’re early.” He commented, glancing around the park, seeing no one else. Which made sense. It was nearly sunset. It was  _ cold.  _ The sky had a dark enough overcast that he was sure it would start snowing again any second. Who in their right mind would be out right now?

“We’re not.” Emile said, glancing over his shoulder. “Remember. Stay back.” He again cautioned before he knelt, letting out a soft three pitch whistle. “Stitch?” He called softly. “Hey buddy, it’s me, Emile. I--I brought you something.” 

Remy frowned, staring at the silent tree. “Did you actually have me help you make a sweater for a mutant  _ squirrel? _ ” That or Emile had a screw loose and he’d just spent three days making a monstrosity of a sweater for an imaginary friend.    


“Shh!” Emile hissed before again whistling at the tree. “Stitch? It’s okay. This is Remy. He’s a…”

Remy raised an eyebrow as Emile bit his lip, glancing back at him. 

“He’s a friend, he won’t hurt you.” The big guy edged another foot closer, hand brushing the tips of the pine needles sending snow showering down off the branches. “Please come out? I--we brought you something.” 

The pine tree remained silent.

Remy shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, regretting more that he’d drunk all his hot chocolate. “Maybe he’s not home.” Everyone who was anyone in their right mind would be anywhere but  _ outside  _ in this weather.

“Maybe you’re scaring him.” Emile snapped back before wincing. “Ah...could you like...kneel down? Please.” 

Remy scoffed. Him? Scaring the imaginary friend? If Emile wasn’t scary then Remy definitely wasn’t scary either. “And freeze to death?” He asked, awkwardly crouching on his heels. His designer shoes were already feeling the damp chill of the snow working its way in to soak his socks, there was no way he would allow his knees to experience the same torment. 

“Stitch?” Emile pleaded, again whistling as he edged closer. “ _ Stitch. _ ” 

They were gonna be out here until midnight at this point. “Come on, Stitcharoo.” He said ignoring the big guy’s frantic hissing to shut up. “I’m friendly. Emile is friendly. We’re all friendily  _ freezing  _ here so how about you come out an--” Remy cut off as the branches rustled. 

A single yellow eye peered out at them, glinting in the fading sunlight. 

Okay. Imaginary friend out. Mutant feral squirrel back in.

_ “Meal?” _ A shaky voice asked. A  _ young  _ shaky voice.

Ooohhh Goodie. Remy pressed his lips together, fighting the way his heart had jumped into his throat. Freaking  _ talking  _ mutant feral squirrel. It had  _ better be  _ a mutant squirrel because if there was a freaking  _ child  _ living in this tree in the middle of a freaking  _ snow storm-- _

Emile visibly sagged with relief. “Hey Stitch, buddy. You okay?” 

The eye gave a slow blink. “C-c-cold.” 

“Aren’t we all.” Remy muttered, glad that his sunglasses protected him from whatever baleful glare the creature was casting on him now. He gave a two fingered wave. “I’m freezing too, buckaroo.” 

_ “Remy.” _

“What?” 

Emile gave him the patented  _ Will you shut up  _ look that would have made any mother proud. 

Remy made a face. “You never said I couldn’t  _ talk.” _ He was still behind him wasn’t he? He was  _ crouching in the freaking snow  _ freezing his toes off. He should be allowed to talk to the glowing eye that had better  _ not be a child  _ living in the tree in the middle of winter! 

Emile exhaled, before pulling off the string on the present, unwrapping the black and yellow sweater. “Remy and I made you this, Stitch. To help with the cold.” He said, holding it out in all its six-armed glory. 

A soft gasp came from the tree as the yellow eye opened wide. “Me?” 

“Yah, kiddo.” Emile said, nodding. “Can I help you put it on?”

The branches shifted, the yellow eye glancing to Remy before vanishing. 

Sugarbee hadn’t been kidding when he said his friend was shy. 

“C-cold.” The voice whispered from somewhere within the tree. “ _ Meal.  _ Safe?” 

Remy fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, anger burning in his chest. They’d be out here all night at this rate. “Yah, honeysuckle, you’re safe. Let Emile put the sweater on you okay? I’ll stay right here.” There was  _ no one else _ in the park.  _ Who  _ would leave a child out here  _ alone!  _ One that had apparently been out here for a  _ while _ if previous conversations with Emile were anything to go by. 

The branches didn’t move.

Perfect.

“Stitch.” Emile whispered, slowly lowering the sweater, stretching out a hand to the branches. “Please? You’re cold, let me help you this time.”

Remy frowned again, poking Emile in the back. “This time?”

Emile flinched. “He--ah...he hasn’t actually let me...touch him? Before. This is the closest I’ve gotten.” 

Oh for the love of! Remy shot to his feet. “ _ Gurl!”  _

The big guy was there, a plate sized hand on his chest holding him back and radiating heat like the sun, before he could take a step. “I said he was  _ shy. _ ” Emile said, eyes wide and pleading. “Don’t. _ Scare.  _ Him.”

Ah huh. And in the process of not scaring him they were just going to have this mysterious friend freeze to death because there would be no way a simple sweater would help the kid survive the night! Remy growled trying to move around Emile, but it was like trying to move around a mountain. “The sound of that voice tells me that’s a  _ child,  _ Sugarbee. A FREAKING CHILD and you’re just letting him  _ stay  _ here.”

“He doesn’t  _ trust humans!”  _

That pulled him up short. “Humans.” Remy repeated, lowering his sunglasses. “ _ HUMANS? _ Is he  _ not _ human, Emile?” If this was an actual real life  _ Stitch  _ then--then!! 

Emile had the grace to look embarrassed. “I--I---uhh--” 

Remy threw up his hands. He would burn that particular bridge when he got there, But right now, he needed to  _ see  _ this ‘not human’ child and make sure he was  _ safe.  _ Remy ducked under Emile’s arm, scooping up the sweater in the process. “Hey Stitcharoo.” He said crouching at the base of the tree branches, ignoring the frantic warnings hissing like a teapot behind him as he pulled off his sunglasses, hanging them from the collar of his jacket. “It’s gonna snow again, tonight. You know. Get colder?  _ Freeze.  _ And my buddy here is like this giant heated blanket and wants to keep you  _ warm.  _ You’ll like the warm. I promise it’s--”

He froze as a child’s pale hand, nearly tinged blue, popped out of the tree, visibly shaking as it poked his cheek before jerking back out of sight. 

“It’s--it’s--I uhh, Hi?” Remy stuttered out, brain trying to process what had just happened as he rubbed the spot the child had touched. 

Surely.  _ Surely,  _ he hadn’t seen what he thought he’d seen. There hadn’t been glittering  _ scales  _ on that hand. No. No trick of the light. Maybe it was cosmetic? Part of a costume?

The branches rustled before two hands, two scaled covered  _ left  _ hands, parted them, revealing a child’s face half covered in scales, peering back at him. “Hi.” The kid said, eyes -one golden, one a regular brown- shifting to Emile as he knelt down next to Remy before focusing on Remy himself. “Safe?”

“I--” Remy blinked before nodding dumbly as a  _ third  _ hand, a  _ right hand  _ with no scales on the pale skin this time, reached out to Emile’s ginormous hand. 

Suddenly Emile’s insistence that there needed to be six arms made a lot more sense. If Remy had already seen  _ three  _ hands, surely that could mean that there were three more still hidden out of sight. 

“You’re safe.” Emile said, gently taking the boy’s hand and squeezing it. 

The boy bit his lip before he surged forward straight into Emile’s chest. “Wa-warm.” He whispered, multiple hands gripping onto his coat as snow from the branches above showered down on top of them.

Remy tsked, quickly shaking off the white powder, heart pounding like a drum as he took in the ragged state of the kid’s clothes, the so called ‘sweater’ he currently wore was barely worth the name, only having two proper arms and four more holes in the sides for the--for the, Gee Manetti, the kid actually had  _ six arms!!!!  _ as Emile pulled open his tent of a jacket to wrap around the boy. 

“I got you. I got you.” Emile soothed as he scooped Stitch--Remy really hoped that wasn’t his actual name--into his lap, getting his bare feet out of the snow. 

The boy visibly shivered, tucking his toes -normal human toes beyond the left set being more scaled- into the crease between Emile’s shirt and pants. 

Remy bit back a growl. No shoes. Barely any clothes. Some welcome to Earth this kid got. Just because he had  _ six  _ freaking arms didn’t mean that the boy deserved to be abandoned! Even Superman had had a willing farm couple to look after him! 

“I hope you know he is not staying here.” Remy softly scolded, moving cautiously closer. Despite his misgivings about exposing the boy to the weather, he pulled Emile’s coat away so he could get his divine gift of a sweater onto the kid, a difficult feat as Stitch had practically glued himself against Emile’s side. 

The boy made a sound of protest, but didn’t fight him, eyes barely open as he watched Remy finagle the sweater over the rags he currently wore. 

It was pathetic. The boy was practically skin and bones! Remy could feel each individual rib as he tugged the fabric over him for crying out loud! Not to mention the arms themselves were practically sticks! This kid had been neglected for some time. It was--it was---Remy did growl. No one should have to live like this! 

“If you aren’t taking him home with you, by golly I will bring him to my place.” He said, pulling each sleeve over the boy’s ice cold hands. “Crofters! Emile, he needs another three sweaters, new pants, socks, SHOES, mittens--no no gloves. Probably gloves. This isn’t RIGHT!” The boy was COLD. His scales were like ice. How he wasn’t  _ dead  _ yet from hypothermia or frostbite was a mystery but No Ma’am was the kid gonna spend another night out here. “He needs soup, hot chocolate, a warm water bottle, a heated blanket a--”

“I know.” 

Remy jerked his head up at Emile’s quiet words. “Well. Good.” He pulled off his coat so he could slip his own sweater over his head and use it to create some temporary pants for the kid, until he could find something better. At least the boy had two  _ normal  _ legs so he could stuff one into each sleeve. 

“Do--” Emile cleared his throat, keeping his eyes firmly on Stitch’s hair. “Do you...have a place for him?”

Remy blinked as he slipped his own coat back on. “Do I---of course I do--do you not?!” What had he been planning to do once he got the boy to trust him? Leave him here?

Emile flushed, ducking his head.

Okay.  _ Okay.  _ He took a calming breath as the boy dropped two of his hands down to grab one of Remy’s in a tight grip, golden eye practically glowing as it flickered between him and Emile. “Rephrase. Do  _ you  _ have a place to stay yourself, Em?” 

“Not one safe for him.” Came the soft response. “I...it’s barely safe for me.” 

Barely safe for a guy who could feasibly dead lift a car? Punch a hole in concrete? He’d have to unpack the meaning of  _ that  _ particular admission some other time. Right after he had time to process that this kid had  _ six  _ freaking arms and was either an actual alien or escaped mutant experiment of some sort. 

“Right.” Remy exhaled, running his free hand through his hair. “Right. First. We get you both back to my place. Second. Get him warm and fed.” Maybe to a doctor--did he even  _ know _ any doctors who could handle  _ this?!  _ “Third. Figure out living arrangements.  _ Capiche _ ?” Oh and Fourth. Figure out the boy’s  _ actual  _ name or give him a cooler one because no way would he be continuing to call him  _ Stitch.  _

That was a simple enough list right? Just four things. Nothing complicated about that. 

Emile blinked, adjusting his glasses. “But you don’t  _ know  _ me.”

Remy scoffed, squeezing the boy’s hands. Sure three days haranguing the guy on how to properly thread a bobbin wasn’t a _normal_ way to invite someone to be your roommate, but it wasn’t the _worst_ way either. “I don’t know the kid either, Em. But I do know that he needs a home and if you need one too then you’ve got one with me.” The dude had a good heart. He’d been attempting to _make a_ _sweater_ instead of buying one and poking holes in it for crying out loud. 

“I--uh--” Emile cleared his throat. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” At least not until he got them all out of the cold.  _ Then  _ they could talk.

The kid shivered again, tightening his grip on their hands. “Safe?” He whispered, resting his head against Emile’s chest, eyes flickering between them both. 

Safe? There was no question about it. Not with another snowstorm coming. Not when Remy desperately itched to pull out all his extra fabric from his sewing closet to throw onto the kid just to give him a proper, better fitting outfit. “Of course, honeysuckle.” He said, pulling the tent of a coat that Emile wore back over the boy to protect him from the cold. “We’ll keep you safe.” He looked up, meeting Emile’s eyes, smirking as he found acceptance there. “We promise.”


End file.
